A Day Off
by cayt-lynne
Summary: Sam and Dean finally get a day off, but they can't quite relax.


**A Day Off**

**Summary – **

**Sam and Dean get a day off and try to relax.**

"Nothing. Literally nothing. No cases."

Dean groaned. "What's gotten into the monsters? You'd think they'd be going nuts, what with Heaven and Hell in open war."

"Nope." Sam pushed his laptop away in disgust. "They've gone quiet."

Dean sighed. "Guess we should be happy. Nobody is dying, right?"

"Right." They both stared at the computer in longing for a moment, trying to be optimistic.

"This sucks," they said at the same time.

"Well, what are we supposed to do all day?" asked Sam.

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. What do normal people do on their day off?"

They looked at each other blankly.

Sam wandered into the library. He couldn't help feeling uneasy at the lack of a case. He should be out there, helping people. The problem was that there was no one to help. He should feel glad that no lives had been ended, no families ripped apart, but he just…couldn't. He had tried this before, not hunting, both with Jess and Amelia, and had handled it well back then, only suffering the occasional urge to look for a case. But now? He just wanted out of the bunker, to do research, to kill something. It was his normal.

He found his way to the very back corner, to a shelf that he hadn't gotten a chance to explore yet. The books here were worn, leather, and handwritten. He picked one up and leafed through it. When he realized what it was, he nearly dropped it. These were journals. They belonged to Men of Letters and hunters, both.

"Wow," he breathed. He immediate pulled five or six of them down and carried them over to the table. He spread them out, looking at their cracked and dusty covers. He ran a hand over them and noticed little tags on the fronts. It was almost like a little plaque, made out of metal, with a name and year engraved on it. Upon closer inspection, he realized they were the names of the owners of the journals and the dates of their deaths. Sam sat down and started reading.

Dean tromped down to the shooting range. No case? What was he supposed to do? He was bored already. Sighing, he surveyed the many guns they kept in the range for practice. He might as well shoot something. He picked up the heaviest, loudest firearm and proceeded to shoot the crap out of the target. It was shredded by the time he was done. He heard Sam's footsteps approaching. They sounded grumpier than usual. Soon Sam's face appeared, brow furrowed, complaint already coming out of his mouth.

"Dean, I'm trying to read! What the hell are you doing?"

"Shooting stuff, what does it look like I'm doing?" Dean grumbled, turning back to the target and picking up another gun. "Go away."

He fired off three more shots before Sam wrestled the gun away from him.

"Dude, seriously?"

"Come on, Sam. I'm bored!"

"So you have to make as much noise as possible."

Dean didn't answer, just held his hand out for his gun.

'No, no way," Said Sam, tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans. "Come on, I've got something to show you."

Dean sighed, but gave in, knowing Sam wouldn't let him be until he did. "Alright. What've you got?"

Sam sat back at the table he had started at, Dean looking over his shoulder. They were focused on the books that Sam had been reading through, some pages he had bookmarked. It was all fascinating.

"What am I looking at?"

"Dean, these are hunters' and Men of Letters journals! They're full of information of things we've never even seen, some stuff I've never even heard of."

Dean shifted, impressed. If there was something his nerd brother didn't know, it had to be rare. He made the mistake of saying so out loud, leading to a wrestling match on the library floor.

"Damn it, Sasquatch, get off of me! You're crushing my ribs!" Dean gasped out.

Sam laughed. "Admit defeat."

"Sam!"

"Say it, Dean."

"Alright, alright! You win, I lose, happy now?"

Sam rolled off of Dean and retreated a safe distance, in case Dean decided to launch a counter attack. He didn't though. His cell had just gone off. He pulled it out and read the message on the screen. A smile broke out across his face. Sam perked up.

"What is it?"

"Remember Tamara? That hunter who helped us with the seven deadly sins?"

"Yeah, what about her?"

Dean looked up, still smiling, and flashed his cellphone screen at Sam. "She found us a case."


End file.
